Look After You
by Nyx6
Summary: After surviving all the drama of their first few months together, Lauren and her brooding Shield boyfriend Dean Ambrose are looking forward to a nice romantic Christmas...pity the flu has other ideas. Nurse Dean to the rescue? Yes please. Continuation of 'Who Do You Love', 'Bump In The Night' and 'Homecoming'. High quality cuteness and fluff be inside!
1. I'll Be Home For Christmas

**Okay, so, here begins the Christmas special which I will admit right now is unashamed fluff and among my favourites of these 'sequels' if you like. It is also a Christmas present to all my lovely readers and especially those who have taken the time to review over and over, big love!**

 **Welcome to caring boyfriend Dean mode…he** **re we go!**

* * *

 **I'll Be Home For Christmas**

To say I was excited about my first very Christmas in Vegas with Dean was the biggest understatement known to man. I was more than excited. I was _childlike_ about it and had been for days – no, scratch that – for _months_.

Christmas in my world was magical and beautiful, all fairy lights and cosiness and hot chocolate and wintery fun. I enjoyed almost everything there was about the holiday, from buying and wrapping presents through to eating way too much. Life just felt more _special_ at Christmas and I was pumped to be spending it with the person I treasured most.

Dean Ambrose.

Wrestler, one third of _The Shield_ and international god of love.

Well, at least to me he was – I certainly wasn't sharing him around.

Not six months earlier my festive plans had been bleak ones. I was going to spend the day depressed and alone. My best friend would have invited me over and made me feel welcome – I would have counted on that – but it would never have chased away the knowing little feeling that I was only hanging out there to keep from feeling sad.

Now however, my life had changed completely and so much for the better I didn't know where to start. I had a boyfriend, I had a house – okay, so it was _his_ house – but most of all I had a real family as well, as in an honest to goodness _blood relation_ family that wanted to spend time with me and do _family_ type stuff _._ Apparently that also included at the holidays and general seasonal _being together-_ ness,was why when the tapings had ended on the Tuesday, I had flown to Connecticut to spend some time at their house. Dean hadn't come – well, he hadn't been invited and I doubted he would have taken up the offer if he had – but it was okay though, I honestly didn't mind that. Things were weird for him with his boss being my dad.

What it _did_ mean however was that when I started sickening, I was more than super keen to keep it under wraps. Shrugging off the gradual swelling of my lymph nodes and focusing on getting back home to see _him_. If I let on to Hunter or Stephanie that I was ailing, they probably would have grounded me then and there with them and as nice as it would have been to be fussed over and cared about, I only wanted to be at home with my Dean.

That was my goal.

I had to get to Vegas.

Then and _only_ then would everything be okay.

Initially when I had waved my goodbyes at the airport, it had been nothing more than a headache, a scratchy throat and rare sneeze. Not exactly pleasant but not _do or die_ stuff, although somewhere over Chicago everything changed and not only had the full-force chills hit in suddenly so too had coughing, itchy eyes _and_ the sweats. By the time the plane had passed over Colorado, I had been shaking and sniffing and generally feeling crap and on top of all that my snooty seat buddy had started eyeing me and glaring like I was carrying the plague.

Touching down in Vegas some two hours later, was one of the greatest reliefs of my life and I practically slithered from my seat like a jellyfish as my weak and achy limbs briefly struggled to keep me up.

"Get to Dean," I murmured hoarsely, pulling down my carry-on and hacking out a bubbly cough, "Get to Dean, get home, feel better – get to Dean, just get to Dean."

The amount of people milling in the arrivals lounge briefly made my addled head spin and I squinted into the sea of excitable faces, trying to pick out the one that belonged to me.

Was he not there?

Maybe he'd forgotten me?

Was I at the wrong airport?

I suddenly felt sick.

All I wanted was to be safely at home again and snuggled up beside him.

Why wasn't he there?

The ball of nausea again rose higher and I dropped my head down as I bit back a sob. Evidently feeling horrible was affecting my emotions and I sniffed and wiped a tear from my eyes. It meant that I was only vaguely looking at my surroundings when a pair of big work boots stepped into view and it also meant that I actually startled in bewilderment as a pair of arms swept round me,

"Fuckin' missed you."

I blinked in somewhat dulled realization, my heart hitching slightly in hopefulness,

"Dean?"

From somewhere above me – _god_ he smelt wonderful – my boyfriend chuckled and trailed his fingers through my hair, wrapping me up in so much familiarity that the buzz of the airport completely died away,

"Not hopin' for someone else were you Princess?"

"No," I mumbled back, "I – I couldn't see you."

"Couldn't fuckin' _hear_ me either, I've been yellin' at you since you stumbled outta the gate."

"Sorry," I whimpered, exhaling a shaky breath out in genuine relief that I hadn't been left behind. Tilting my head up to get a better look at me, Dean's eyes abruptly narrowed beneath a worried looking brow,

"Hey, you alright?"

I shook my head,

"Not really."

"What's wrong?"

"I – I don't feel very well."

The admission came out as a sad sounding whisper and as my throat protested sharply – like I could forget it – I shut my eyes wearily and dropped my head against his chest. The folds of his t-shirt were soft and comfortable and I rubbed my cheek against them, trying to nuzzle further in. As I did Dean's hand dropped down to my forehead, sweeping back my hair before pressing in his lips. He paused for a second then grunted unhappily and sighed at me,

"Princess, you're fuckin' burnin' up."

"I am?" I replied in little more than a mumble and on hearing it, Dean promptly grabbed at my hand, jerking me away from his abs with a chest bump and reaching for my carry-on,

"C' mon, let's get you home."

I plodded along behind him flat-footed as he half-eased, half-dragged me towards the baggage carousel and was so completely wearied and virally muddle-headed that I suddenly couldn't remember what my luggage looked like.

 _Um_.

In the end the only help I could even really offer was to veto a ladybug case designed for a child,

"That – that's not mine."

Dean snorted,

"Yeah, I figured. Take it easy Lauren, I got this, alright?"

Standing watching as the bags trickled past me was like some sort of weird Chinese torture for my eyes, which at some point had started to not only feel itchy but almost physically _heavy_ as well. Was that even possible? Could eyelids get heavier? I swallowed and then winced as my throat turned to shreds. I was practically a walking _compendium_ of clichés.

Razor blade throat? Check.

Humming in eardrums? Sore, achy muscles? Runny nose?

Check, check _and_ check.

By the time Dean had finally located my luggage, the nausea had worryingly climbed a little more and as he stalked back in and spun me towards the exit the sudden tilt-o-whirl effect made it ten times worse,

"Uh, Dean?" I whispered, not wanting to make a spectacle or open up my mouth too wide. It was entirely possible if I responded with a sentence that I would throw up all over him.

He wouldn't like that.

"What?"

"I think – I think – ,"

He frowned at me,

"Think _what_ Princess?"

"I think I'm going to – going to be sick."

Dean's steady eyes flickered ever so slightly, like he was processing the statement,

"You're gonna – what, _now_?"

Clamping my mouth shut as the ball rose higher, I nodded and squeezed my eyes tight shut. Dean sighed but immediately moved into action and the next thing I knew, his hand was round my elbow and he was towing me hurriedly across the tiled floor. Somewhere on the horizon of my starred and hazy vision, a sign flashed up.

 _Bathrooms._

Well thank god for that.

Swinging us up close to them Dean barged the door wide drawing distasteful looks from a gang of girls inside. They were standing applying lipsticks and chatting around the mirror but he ignored them resolutely and shunted me past, physically pushing me right across the threshold before stopping on the fringes,

"Hey, I'll be out here, alright?"

I nodded back meekly because _god_ I felt nauseous and in the end all I could manage was a choked little _hmmm_.

"You sure you're gonna be okay in there Lauren?"

I wasn't entirely sure what he meant by that.

Maybe he thought I would pass out on the concrete, or wander off past him and somehow get lost. To be honest I guessed that either of those things was possible but rather than say that I merely nodded a second time and then turned with a squeak as the sickness washed over me and promptly bolted for the nearest empty stall.

"Oh god – ,"

Banging the door shut with a loud and desperate clatter, I clumsily dropped down onto my knees, winding clammy fingers in close around the toilet seat and squeezing my eyes so tight that the pressure forced out tears. I was sucking in breaths like I was some sort of addict, shaking and trembling to get my next fix and the oxygen was at once both dizzying and _beautiful_ which was a weird thing to think about somewhat stagnant _toilet air_. The chances were I was inhaling cleaning fluids, or urine or even –

 _Nope_.

Don't go there girl.

Across my whole body my poor skin was prickling, as sweat tried to seep its way out through every pore. When I opened my eyes again, my vision was spotting and I let out a moan of self-pity.

" _Ugh_ – ,"

It felt like the full-on assault on my system was slowly building up to a crescendo of some sort and as my stomach lurched violently, I quickly leant forward and – _yep_ , how glamorous – threw up violently into the bowl.

Somewhere by the mirrors – or at least I assumed it was – I heard one of the preening girls cluck in disgust. Probably she thought I'd had one too many cocktails while waiting for my flight. How wrong she was. Usually it would have made me blush in embarrassment but honestly, I was feeling too crap to mind much and in the end it was all I could do to flush the toilet and make it to my feet again without passing out.

Fortunately by the time I staggered to the basins the multitude of _girly girls_ had gone and I was able to slump forward and rest my head against the mirror without blocking any crucial mascara viewing points. Running my throbbing wrists under the water was joyful and once done I plodded back out through the doors, returning to the hustle and bustle of the terminal and – as he had feared – almost stumbling past my man,

" _Whoa_ , hey, I'm over here Lauren,"

"Huh?"

A warm hand encircled my wrist and stopped me from staggering off into the melee and probably becoming entirely lost. Ducking down a little to eye me appraisingly, Dean's expression tightened.

Clearly I looked worse.

"How you doin'?"

"Not good," I mumbled, rubbing my tired eyes a little like a child,

"Wanna take your chances in the car?"

I nodded,

"Yeah, I just – I just want to go home."

"Easy Princess," Dean murmured at me, "Don't sweat it. I'll get you there, you'll be alright."

Holding out a fresh bottle of water in my direction that he had managed to get from god only knew where, he swiftly bent down to re-collect my luggage and then used his free hand to coax me along. I followed behind him much like I was dreaming, watching his feet as they surged through the crowd, grounding me to something real and very solid and keeping my feverish mind from drifting to far off. Thanks to a combination of Dean's height, glower and muscles, we made it to the exit in near record time, slaloming bags and hugging couples and _welcome home_ signs and even a small dog wearing a collar of balloons.

 _Awww._

Well, either that or the delirium had kicked in.

One or the other.

It was still cute though.

Once outside the chill weather hit me and although Connecticut had definitely been colder – as quite frankly, nearly _everywhere_ else was – having been huddled on the plane for so damn long made the sudden shift in temperature strike right down at my core. Possibly what didn't help was how much I had been sweating but now the heat was gone, I'd never felt so cold. On the plus side the shock of it chased away the nausea but on the _downside_ my skin felt positively raw.

Despite the fact it was the middle of December, Dean had left the house in only a plain black tee and although he saw me shiver – probably even _felt_ it since he was holding my hand tightly – he couldn't really help.

"Come on Lauren," he ground out soothingly, reaching up to flip his shades into place, "Once we're in the car, I'll crank the heat up some. Okay baby?"

I nodded,

"Okay."

Clearly I must have looked really, _really_ miserable considering he had pulled out the rare _baby_ card. Usually he only used it if something had happened – if I'd been handcuffed by hillbillies or assaulted by my ex – but evidently it _also_ made an appearance when I felt horrible and looked like death, which I didn't really mind.

It was actually nice.

Hearing my boyfriend refer to me as _baby_ was like getting my Christmas present a few days before time. It also implied that he felt sympathy for me and wanted to take care of me.

I could get on board with that.

Luckily – or maybe that should have been _mercifully_ – Dean had managed to park pretty close and so in the end it was only a short-but-sad shuffle before I found myself staring blankly at our car.

"Oh, we're here," I blinked at my reflection as I briefly wondered who the pallid figure was and Dean leant in around me and swung the door open, which regrettably meant letting go of my hand. His brows were drawn close like he was worried about something and he glanced at me warily,

"Ye-ah, we're here, you still with me baby?"

"I – I think so."

"Keep it that way, you hear me?"

"Uh huh."

Getting me into the seat proved difficult, given that neither my legs or arms worked. Well, I mean, they _worked_ just not very readily since at some point they seemed to have lost all their verve. Something else they had started to do as well was tremble and so when it came to climbing they were _definitely_ out, which meant Dean having to sort of push me in awkwardly, with his hands on my butt cheeks, so – you know – every cloud.

By the time I had managed to clip in my seatbelt – _another_ excruciating five minute task – I felt completely devoid of all energy and sagged back into the seat and let my eyes fold shut.

Bliss.

Stowing the bags and then slamming the trunk shut, Dean came round and climbed in on the driver's side, reaching out and rubbing a rough thumb across my elbow in a valiant attempt at bringing me back to life,

"Hey – ,"

I sprang upright like I'd been shot from a cannon, blinking into the low winter sun,

"Huh? Wha's happenin'?"

He snorted at me wryly,

"Don't go to sleep, 'kay? You can crash when we get home."

I gazed through the windshield feeling oddly disconnected as he pulled from the space and threaded back onto the road. My head was pounding and my eyeballs were throbbing in time to my heartbeat like someone banging on a drum. My skin was so tender that my clothes actually _hurt_ it and I was shivery and hot and sweaty all at once. I couldn't even remember what Dean had just asked me and so I slowly blinked across at him,

"I – I don't feel good."

Reaching out a hand he again tested my forehead, using his knuckles to gently push my hair back. His fingers felt warm but also soothing above my eyelids and I leant in against them until I heard him curse. Starting a little, I glanced worriedly across at him and his eyes slid round to mine before softening a bit,

"You're gonna be fine Lauren. What do I always say, huh? Think I'd let anythin' happen to my girl?"

"No," I shook my head, regretting the motion instantly as it tweaked my stiff neck and elicited a groan. Clearly to Dean it sounded like a _nausea thing_ and he quickly decided to lay down a new rule,

"Hey, you feel like hurlin', you tell me an' I'll pull over – you hear me? Promise me, alright?"

Instead of answering him directly however – and honestly it was a miracle I was even keeping up – I grinned at him mildly and offered him a giggle as something lodged at the back of my mind. Unfortunately it promptly turned into a coughing fit but I still had my water and I hastily took a swig, spluttering even as the liquid soothed my throat out and cleared away the painful bubbling hacks.

"Wow – ,"

"Hey," Dean barked, dropping a hand down and contorting himself out of his seat to rub my back, "You okay? Speak to me Princess."

"We've done this before."

He frowned at me,

"What?"

"This," I gestured, forgetting about the water and slopping it over my kneecaps.

 _Damn._

"This?" Dean repeated and _how_ was he not getting it when _I_ was the one with a raging temperature?

" _This_. You and me remember? Traveling together with you over there telling me not to get sick."

It took a moment longer but finally he got it and as he did he glanced across with a teasing little smirk. It meant that I was probably due for some ribbing but since I was heading for home with my boyfriend, I honestly didn't mind one single bit.

"You know," he began, his lips curving upwards until the dimples in the sides of his cheeks popped in. Even now we were together, they still made my heart sing. They were just so god damn _cute_ , "If I'd known then how much trouble you get in, I'd probably have just left you at the side of the road."

"No you wouldn't have," I pouted, "You love me."

"I mean, yeah, that's what I _tell_ you – ,"

I whimpered at him,

" _Dean_."

Reaching across he slapped my thigh chuckling and then found out one of my damp, sticky hands. The fact that he didn't shy away from their _germiness_ instantly confirmed to me exactly how he felt and as the fingers dug in tighter and anchored me to reality – well, as much as my fever bogged mind would allow – I sat back sighing and sucked another breath in before slowly letting my weary eyes close.

 _Just five minutes._

I promised myself silently, although as it turned out I didn't even get one. Almost at once the hand was ripped away again and replaced by the not so soothing strains of _Motorhead_.

"What did I say about fallin' asleep, huh? Just a little longer, okay? We're almost there."

Propping myself up and fighting down the nausea, I rubbed my eyes fiercely,

"Sorry, m'alright."

I sounded drunk but Dean grinned at me anyway and palmed my hair,

" _That's_ my poorly girl. Gonna get you into bed, okay baby?"

"Do you mean – ," I bit my lip in excitement, "Have _sex_?"

He grimaced at me,

" _No_."

"Not even for _Christmas_?" I replied in a whisper, offended but not entirely sure why. Was I suddenly so repulsive that my boyfriend was repelled by me? When did _that_ happen? More importantly _why_? Then suddenly I sneezed sort of _all across_ the console and realization dawned.

 _Oh, fever, right._

In response to my confusion, Dean arched a brow at me and tried to fight down the ghost of a smile,

"How about we see how you're feelin'?"

I nodded, thinking about it very briefly,

"Alright."

Reaching out a hand, Dean again seized my fingers, squeezing them between his as he grinned and shook his head,

"You're fuckin' _crazy_ , you know that, right Princess? Promise me you'll never change."

I bit my lip,

"Dean?"

" _Mmhmm_ , what is it Lauren?"

"I'm going to be sick again."

Then – unfortunately for him – I was.

* * *

 **I think you can see where we're going with this story...nursemaid Dean to the rescue!**

 **See you in three days!**


	2. Blue Christmas

**Welcome back my lovelies, here we are with chapter two which cranks the sweetness up to eleven. Don't blame me, you have been warned…**

 **Mandy, Doting Dean is** _ **very**_ **doting here (especially in this chapter as you will see) but you can't really blame me for wanting to indulge in that a little of that right?**

 **Minnie1015, Aww, thanks, glad I can paint a picture for you (linguistically at least since I am definitely** _ **not**_ **crafty so an actual painting would be a terrible thing). I love these two as well. Can't seem to stop writing them. I always come back!**

 **AngelsDestiny22, Doctor Dean in his long white coat! Well, not quite but he does at least try his very best here which is kind of the main thing bless his heart!**

 **xXBalorBabeXx, I always find whenever you are feeling/looking your worst there is always a girl looking effortlessly beautiful somewhere close by to make things worse, which is why I made Lauren go through the same thing (basically, I am mean!)**

 **Skovko, What would life be without a bit of craziness? Besides which, I'm glad you said crazy and not unlucky, which you could probably make a strong case for arguing that Lauren is as well!**

 **Labinnacslove, I see your** _ **adorable**_ **and raise you a** _ **totally stinkin' cute**_ **for this next part (not to mention the rest of it) hope you like!**

 **AussieKayz, Yay, super glad you liked it, more of the same in this chapter too (just a change of scenery) so I hope it makes you laugh again at some point (crosses fingers eagerly)**

 **HannonsPen, Haha, wow, you're flying through these! Sorry to keep messing up your schedule! Glad you're still with me though, always good to have more people aboard the crazy Lauren train!**

 **More cute Dean time...**

* * *

 **Blue Christmas**

In getting me from the car up the stairs to our bedroom, Dean cut out the middleman and simply carried me there, sweeping my wobbly legs out from under me and completing the distance in thirty seconds at the most. In hindsight, it was probably the right course of action, since – had I been left to walk it myself – we probably would have still been there _next_ Christmas and honestly, I was done with having to move myself.

Depositing me on the edge of our king size mattress, Dean set about ridding me of my tight and scratchy clothes, each fibre of which seemed to delight in grating over me and rubbing my tender skin like nails or wire wool.

Theoretically the act of my boyfriend undressing me _should_ have been sexy.

It was anything but.

Instead it felt safe and loving and _genuine_ although he swore and stepped back whenever I sneezed.

"Sorry," I murmured, hanging my head low, mostly because it was too heavy to hold up. I had no idea how it was actually _possible_ but every last inch of my weary body hurt. There were aches and pains in joints and muscles that I hadn't even registered _having_ before and it felt like there was some civil war happening and I was the poor country being torn apart. Sadly, the single sorry word of apology irritated my scratchy throat again and I promptly broke off both coughing and spluttering, which in turn made the pounding in my besieged head ramp up.

Dean, who had been across the room trying to find bed wear and clearly struggling to figure out what I slept in other than my birthday suit after we'd had sex, quickly came back over, clutching an old t-shirt with some spurious slogan on it that I slowly realized was one of his.

"Hey," he frowned, chiding me gently for letting me get myself into such a state, "Breathe, okay Princess? Just take it easy. _Trust me_ , I don't want you throwin' up again. Not fuckin' sure we'll ever get the smell outta the front of the truck as it is – don't add the bedroom to the list as well."

"Sorry," I repeated and he rolled his eyes a little, then briskly dropped the t-shirt over my head.

"Stop fuckin' apologizin' as well. Not your fault, alright? Now put your arms up."

I did as instructed, wondering vaguely whether Dean had ever had to take care of someone before. None of his previous relationships – that I'd heard about – seemed to have been the lengthy or _functional_ sort and so I figured that it was entirely possible I was seeing the live birth of his nursing career. Not that he was exactly _Florence Nightingale_ , but he was trying – really trying – and that was enough.

As the folds of the t-shirt enveloped my head and surrounded me with a lingering trace of Dean's scent, I breathed it in deeply and felt my shoulders start to droop a little, dropping down from their position hunched up around my neck. I _hummed_ a little and when Dean poked my head through, I gazed up at him with bleary but totally loving eyes.

"You're like a really _sweary_ Doctor Zhivago,"

Dean raised a brow,

"That a good thing?"

"It really is. He's all kind of tortured and sexy and tragic. I like that."

"You realize you've kinda lost me here, right?"

"Oh," I blinked, "Well, Yuri Zhivago – ,"

"Hey," he interrupted, "Get into damn bed."

As I'd been attempting to give the _Russian Classics Cliff Notes_ , Dean had been tugging on a pair of my socks, choosing a couple of big fleecey-lined ones and sliding them across my ankles before deciding I was done. At any rate I certainly _felt_ a lot comfier and so as he flapped the covers, I clumsily clambered over them, crawling unsteadily across the rumpled bedspread and then flopping down into my pillow, face-first.

With the exception of not being able to physically breathe through it, the relief was magnificent,

" _Mmmmmmm_."

"That good?"

"So good," I mumbled, or – at least – _tried_ to, the words being eaten by the folds of my pillow and rendering them little more than a series of random grunts. Fortunately Dean seemed to get what I was going for and snorted down wryly as he carefully tucked me in. The folds of the comforter came in around my shoulders and his hand swept my hair as I turned my head to breath.

The sensation of not having to hold myself upright was so blissfully comfortable that I wanted to cry and every inch of bedding – from the mattress to my pillow – seemed to be welcoming me in ever deeper with a hug. My eyes flickered shut now they were finally allowed to and I let out a sweet and very contented little huff.

I mean – okay – so the pain hadn't lessened and I still felt achy and nauseous and _glum_ but being back in familiar surroundings was like a soothing balsam, or really strong vaporub.

Stephanie and Hunter's house was amazing and I liked being with them, but it just wasn't home. From the second I had started to feel under weather, I had wanted two things.

My bed and my Dean.

Throw away the presents – they no longer mattered – I had my Christmas wish right here.

"Hey," Dean murmured and I started a little, having virtually been on the fringes of sleep. Reaching in again he softly swept my hair back and tested my forehead with the back of his hand, "Still feelin' kinda hot there Princess, might have to try and cool you down some."

"M'not hot, m'cold."

But my protest made no difference because Dean tugged down the covers and exposed my aching shoulders, which I greeted with a whine.

"Sorry baby, you know I gotta do it."

" _No_ ," I mumbled pathetically, " _Don't_."

As the frigid feeling air assaulted my body like soldiers wearing steel-capped boots, I screwed my eyes shut and shivered unhappily, then jumped as something wet was slapped down across my head.

"Whoa, easy," Dean grumbled calmingly, sliding the thing up to lie flat above my brow. I had to admit that it was actually refreshing – I mean, damn cold, but kind of _nice_ as well, "You need to keep this on for a lil' while. You're fuckin' burnin' up. Need to get your fever down."

The mix of sensations was totally bewildering but as I frowned in pained confusion, Dean reached out to hold my hand,

" _Hmm_ , you're sweet."

Dean snorted,

"You think so?"

" _Mmhmm_ , you're taking such good care of me."

"Kinda _have_ to Princess, you know? I'm your boyfriend. Comes with territory."

"You've – you've done this before?"

Somehow the thought of him taking care of someone _other_ than me wasn't something I liked. It suddenly felt like I was no longer special, or that his tender side wasn't saved only for me. I think I possibly even pouted a little or I must have done _something_ because he certainly laughed. Fortunately however, it wasn't a cruel noise, instead it was weary with lashings of _fond_.

"If you mean have I been in a relationship before, then I think you know the answer is _yes_. But if you mean have I played nursemaid with anyone, or let them throw up in my car, then it's _no_. First time I've ever stripped a woman completely naked without sleepin' with her too, come to think of it."

"M' still special then?"

It was a sad little question but Dean responded to it by pressing a kiss to my head,

"Like I said, you're fuckin' crazy, but – _yes_ – you're special."

I nodded in groggy relief,

"That's good."

The furnace that was my head had warmed up the washcloth which in turn had made it almost bearable against my skin. As I settled further into the pillow however, Dean cottoned on and flipped it clean over, reigniting the bitter and unwelcome iciness that made me shiver all over again. Despite that though, I reluctantly let it stay there, too wiped out to shake the thing off and I was almost asleep when Dean nudged me gently, caressing the back of his hand across my cheek. Grunting I cracked a weary eye open and blinked up at him and into his eyes. Even mid-fever his face made my heart leap.

Sometimes he was simply _too_ gorgeous for words.

"I'm gonna get somethin' to make you feel better, but it means I'm gonna have to go out."

The sentence struck a bolt of fear through me suddenly for reasons that I didn't really fully understand and as the mattress bent beneath me like Dean was getting up from it, I flung out a hand and grabbed his arm,

"No – _Dean_ – please don't leave me."

"You'll be fine Princess. It's not like I'm goin' far."

"But I don't want you going _anywhere_ ," I protested, frowning like a child, "I don't like it."

"Why not?"

The act of actually having to think it, made my poor head pound even more and I moved my hands to grip my skull fiercely, hoping I could somehow _make_ it give up.

"Because it's Christmas and – ," I spluttered the explanation, which came out midway between a mumble and a sob, "What if you don't come back and I'm alone again? I – I don't want to be all alone."

Apparently somewhere within my fevered rambling, my fear of abandonment was coming into play and although I barely knew what I was saying, I knew what I was feeling and it was simple.

I was _scared_.

"Hey," Dean intoned, pushing my hands down and brushing my hot clammy cheeks with his thumbs, "I promise you I'm comin' back, you hear me? Think I'm gonna leave my girl? Even if she does get cranky when she's feverish and throw up in my fuckin' car."

"Sorry," I mumbled, blinking up lazily and seeing two Deans – which wasn't a bad thing.

"I already told you, stop fuckin' sayin' sorry."

"Sorry," I repeated and he snorted,

" _Jesus Christ_."

Standing up with a sudden creak of the bed springs, he leant in for another loving kiss. Planting it smack on my cheek above my jawbone and adding in a noise so that it sounded like _mwah_. Clearly that was his way of lightening the mood a bit and I grinned in exhaustion and let my hand trail down his front,

"You're coming back?"

"Try an' stop me Princess."

Then with another little peck he was gone and although I listened for the sound of the door bang, I was lost to the world of sleep before he'd even made it that far. How long I was out for was pretty much lost on me, but when I suddenly woke up again, Dean was still gone. Or at least I _assumed_ he was still out hunting medicine because he certainly wasn't there hovering by my side.

"Dean?"

I called out anyway because I was bleary and my head was _still_ thumping like it was potentially about to burst. The single croaky word once again set me coughing and when he _still_ didn't appear, I knew he was gone.

The panic that laced through me was pretty all-consuming and so were the questions that flew through my brain.

Why was he still gone?

How long had he been gone for?

He _promised_ he'd be back but what if he'd been wrong? What if a spaceship had fallen through the atmosphere and sucked him up to experiment on? What if a Christmas parade had lost a reindeer and he'd been trampled to death in the middle of the drug store?

Twisting in an attempt to look at my alarm clock made the washcloth slither clean off my head and I jolted in surprise as it slapped against my neckline, which made me cough until actual _tears_ filled my eyes,

" _Ugh_ ," I growled in both despair and anger, feeling miserable and useless all at once. In short it was not the moment I would have chosen to decide I needed the bathroom again, but since I was no longer in control of my body – or my emotions, or my health or _any_ damn thing – I was left with little option but to respond to the call of nature, which meant slowly, _slowly_ , hauling myself out of bed.

Apart from the fact that I briefly felt dizzy and that the bulk of my weight seemed to drop into my legs, I actually made it to the bathroom safely – clumsy but upright – which was a pretty big success. I even managed to pee without fainting and also – a real boon – wash my hands as well.

 _Take that fever._

I grinned to myself happily, feeling groggy but confident as I plodded back towards the bed. If anything I guess I was a little _too_ confident, because the next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor.

 _Crap_.

Not only that, but my energy had vanished and although I tried to pull myself zombie-like across the hardwood and to the comfort of the sheets and my pillow and the warmth, I struggled to made it more than two inches before completely giving up and curling into a tight ball.

The stained beech was hard and cold underneath me and dug into my tender and battered feeling skin. Away from the bed I felt utterly frozen and began to shake and tremble so badly that I was scared that something was going to fall off. My hair maybe, or possibly a kneecap – starting off small then moving onto something big.

Like my head.

At that thought I groaned in complete misery and let a single tear roll out, then another and another until I was snivelling on the floorboards, lamenting bad luck and germs and fevers and choosing stained wood instead of thick weave or shag.

I didn't hear Dean coming back in behind me until I heard him hiss.

I hadn't even heard the door.

" _Shit_ – ," he barked out, dropping to his knees beside me and quickly rolling me onto my back, "Lauren? Baby? What the hell happened? You okay?"

So many questions at once.

Too many to focus on and I shook my head sadly, watching him reach in and gently cup my face. His blue eyes bounced up and down across my body, searching for injuries or scrapes or cuts. Not seeing any, they swiftly raked back up again, hands threading through my hair,

"Hey, d'ya hit your head?"

"N-no," I whimpered,

"What the hell were you doin'? Why the fuck were you outta bed?"

"Needed to pee," I mumbled sadly and he stared at me for a second then blew out a breath.

"Princess, you're really gonna have to stop scarin' me. Can't fuckin' take it seein' you hurt."

His arms seemed to come from everywhere suddenly, hooking beneath my kneecaps and under my back, supporting my shoulders and pulling me towards him as he braced his muscles and then lifted me up. My cold and tender skin protested the manhandling and I hissed and fisted my fingers in his shirt, pillowing my head against his neckline wearily and wallowing in just how miserable I felt.

"Don' like it," I mumbled, rippling with tremors and suddenly feeling so very, _very_ cold.

"I know you don't baby," Dean murmured back at me, his deep voice reverberating out through his chest. He turned his head slightly and pressed his lips to my forehead and I felt sure he would comment on what an icicle I was. Instead however, he merely sighed a little and kept them there, "Let's get you back into bed, alright? Then we can see about bringin' down that fever."

Fever?

Surely I wasn't _still_ hot?

But before I got to properly consider it the landscape shifted and I was lowered onto the bed. In my absence the sheets had rapidly cooled again and as my sensitive skin grazed it, I reacted with a jolt. It also triggered a whimper of sheer misery and I let loose a pathetic and self-pitying little sob.

" _Sssh_ ," Dean responded, palming my hair back and pulling the covers part the way up my legs, "I know, I know baby. I'm gonna make it better. That sounds good right?"

I nodded tearily,

" _Mmhmm_."

" _That's_ my girl."

He reached over and swept the gathering tears away before turning and heading back out of the room. I probably would have protested or called after him, only I didn't get the chance because in a second he was back, carrying a bag that seemed pretty well loaded and actually _grinning_ about what he had bought. He looked like a kid who'd spent his birthday money and as he tipped out the wares, I guessed he sort of _had_.

"So I got the pharmacist guy to help me – didn't know what the fuck to buy. Never actually had like _flu supplies_ and that shit. Pretty much bought the whole damn store."

He wasn't exactly lying about that either.

He had certainly bought a generous amount of stuff. There were painkillers of varying strength, form and packaging – caplets, capsules and soluble to name a few – tissues with aloe to protect my nose from chafing, energy drinks, rehydration salts, cherry throat lozenges and even some extra strong menthol rub too. Most relevant of all however – or at least I _assumed_ it was, since he immediately began to twist off the cap – was a gloopy-looking specialist cold and flu medicine which was the same shade of orange as a luminous workman's vest.

I peered at it in measures of doubtfulness, not sure I wanted it near me at all and my head pounding harder at the thought of consuming it as the tell-tale ball of nausea again tickled at my throat,

"Um, Dean? I don' – I don' wan' it."

But it was probably a little too late to back out of it considering that he was pouring it into the little cup, checking the measurements on the side of the packaging and stopping on the marker,

"Sorry Princess," he shook his head at me, "You gotta have it – it's gonna help. Dude in the shop said it'll stop you from achin' and it's gonna bring down that temperature as well."

"Don' _have_ a temperature," I mumbled into the pillow,

"Yes you do Lauren."

" _Don_ '."

"Fine, don't believe me? I'll prove it to you."

There was a rustle as he rooted around in the bag again and then suddenly a brand new thermometer came out. I groaned in complaint but my boyfriend ignored me, tearing off the packaging and firing it into life. Clearly he wanted me to flatten my tongue against it, but I was too sad and _hurty_ to want any part of that and so instead I buried my head under the covers and grunted at him childishly,

"No – _nuh uh_."

"Lauren," Dean sighed, peeling back the bedclothes and growling a little as I tightened my grip. He had managed to uncover my forehead however and a scrap of my cheek, so he bent and kissed it, peppering light little pecks across my bare skin and grumbling softly between each one, "Tryin' to make you feel better baby. Let me help you. You trust me, right?"

It was probably the one question in the whole of the universe that he knew I would never be able to turn down and as I blinked up through the haze to focus on his blue eyes, it melted my resolve and I pulled the covers down again.

"Uh huh."

As expected the thermometer was cold and uncomfortable and as I trapped it beneath my tongue, I squeezed shut my eyes. Fortunately Dean kept me fairly well distracted by alternating between kissing me and stroking my hand.

It meant that I had to officially retract my statement about him being a novice nurse.

He was actually pretty good.

" _Ha_ , I _told_ you," he barked as the thing bleeped, removing it from my mouth and spinning it around, "Fuckin' temperature. Believe me now Princess?"

Okay, still not _quite_ Florence Nightingale yet.

Blinking at the readout and seeing it in double, I was surprised to read a figure of one hundred and one degrees.

 _Huh._

I could have sworn I was actually freezing and to further that assessment, I shivered again. How was it possible to feel so cold but be so hot as well? Could the thermometer possibly be wrong? Seeing my discomfort – and quite possibly my confusion – Dean moved back to the medicine again, waving the cup of ooze in front of my nostrils and sliding a hand beneath me,

"Come on _Germ Girl_ , drink it up."

I could smell the concoction in full lurid detail and shook my head feebly as he hauled my body up, sliding in across the mattress to support me and letting me slump back pathetically against his chest.

"No," I whimpered, again feeling tearful but Dean wasn't having it.

"Down in one. The whole thing. _Go_."

For some strange reason, I did what he asked me and then regretted it almost at once. The taste was foul and made me feel nauseous and I actually _gagged_ on the stuff.

 _Holy gods_.

Fortunately before I could hurl on the bed sheets, Dean shunted a bottle of water beneath my nose and swept the icky measuring cup away from me before the smell could make things worse. The cool stream of water chased away the sickness and although the taste still mildly lingered on, I managed to keep it down without hurling although it did make me shudder in horror.

"N'more."

Dean grinned at me,

"No, it's okay baby, you're done for now."

I wearily flopped back, sliding down his chest a bit and inhaling him deeply as his arms wound around me and kept me there safe. I reached down and tried to pull up the covers, but he knowingly caught my hand and pulled it back up,

"But m' _cold_."

"Just wait for the medicine to start workin' Princess? When your temperature goes down, I'll let you pull 'em up."

"You promise?"

Dean chuckled and kissed my hair,

"I promise."

"You g'na make me take something else?" I frowned warily, eyeing the packets still laid across the bed, "You bought a lot of things. Don' want anymore."

Glancing down towards the tiny traveling pharmacy sprawled across our sheets, Dean let out a snort,

"Never done any of this shit before Princess," he offered up thoughtfully, "Never _cared_ enough before. Not about me, not about _anybody_. Now I'm gonna have to clear a drawer for this junk and it's all because of you."

I blinked,

"Oh, m'sorry."

He heaved a sigh and kissed my head again,

"Not complainin' about it, alright Lauren? I'm sayin' it's a _good_ fuckin' thing. It's me sayin' I care. I mean, look at this right here, I've got _flu medication_ – like a regular fuckin' person. Never thought I'd hear myself say that."

It seemed like he was having an epiphany and I was desperate to listen, but the exhaustion was creeping in. Pulling at my eyelids and dragging me deeper until I felt muddle-headed and unable to fight back. My head lolled briefly and then suddenly shot back up again as I tried to stay focussed on what was happening,

" _Hmmm_ , wha'?"

Dean huffed out a breath in response, but it was gentle and amused sounding and it made me relax,

"Nothin'," he grinned, "Doesn't matter Princess. I'm just sayin' I fuckin' love you that's all."

"Fuckin' love you too."

That made him laugh again and he kissed my forehead fiercely, holding me tighter as my eyes drooped shut,

"Go to sleep baby."

"Will you – will you stay with me?"

His thumb grazed my arm,

"I'm not goin' anywhere."

* * *

 **Just on the off chance that anyone is wondering or thinks I've forgotten, they haven't got their dog Boomer yet. Chronologically that happens pretty soon after this. Don't worry though, he appears in stories still to come (including the next one, sort of…)**

 **Chapter three coming in three days!**


	3. All I Want For Christmas Is You

**Here we are with the next chapter, only one more after this one then this little cutesy-fest is all wrapped up.**

 **xXBalorBabeXx, Given that I'm a big fan of Dean being sweet with the people he loves the most, this entire story was basically just an excuse to go to town with it as you can probably tell! Glad you're with me on that one though. Loving Dean for the win!**

 **Mandy, Well, here you go, you're three days is up and that wasn't so bad now was it?! But to celebrate here's more doting Dean being all protective and snuggly just the way we like him! Although maybe since it seems he's hurt his elbow, someone should be taking care of him? Naturally I volunteer for the job (and probably join a very long queue!)**

 **Minnie1015, You know what? I think we're on the same wavelength with this one! I'm just about to write a story featuring an ex of Dean's and there's a story coming up where they have their first argument and then something BIG happens (it's a pivotal story in their arc to put it mildly) so as it turns out, I'm already ahead of you on those things!**

 **Skovko, Yep, look at Dean growing and doing 'normal' things for his girl. He's like a pretty little butterfly! The last time I was that sick I had this weird sensation that my feet were really big and the rest of me was tiny. Delirium was no fun! Plus there was this weird sort of floating/twisting deal that I make Lauren go through in this one as well. Share the love and all of that!**

 **Labinnacslove, Kind of went crazy with the cuteness in this story, but yeah, if nothing else it shows how much he cares. Besides, who wouldn't want a worried Dean fussing over them playing nursemaid when they're ill, right?! I know I certainly would!**

 **Okay, so, back to the sick bed!**

* * *

 **All I Want For Christmas Is You**

As much as I was loathed to admit it, the foul-tasting ooze actually managed to do the job and I was able to fall into a comfortable drowsiness that lasted on and off for much of the night.

 _Plus_ I was able to pull up the covers.

Not the whole way, but it was still a kind of start.

It wore off again sometime in the early morning – as in _really_ early, on the fringes of dawn – at which point I woke up almost _bathed_ in perspiration and more confused than I had ever been in my life.

Where on earth was I?

What day was it?

What time?

Why did I feel so battered and _ugh_?

Vague recollections came rolling back slowly and I blinked my hot and weary little eyes, gradually able to make out my surroundings and the familiar lines of my bedroom.

My home.

This time I could _feel_ that I was practically roasting, which was probably some sort of sickness progress –I thought – and my throat was so thick and swollen and tender that just swallowing and breathing brought tears to my eyes.

More worryingly still, I seemed to be moving.

Except I wasn't.

Well, at least, not that I could _tell_.

But my entire body still felt like it was floating, like it had somehow levitated clean off the bed. Not only that but it seemed to be _twisting_ , as if my torso was turning the wrong way to my feet in some bizarre sort of glamorous magic act in which I couldn't recall being given a part.

Despite the fact that I was lying horizontal, the illusion briefly threw my balance off and suddenly getting the impression I was falling – which it turned out I wasn't – I flung my arms out. One of my elbows caught Dean in the kidney and he let out a noise and then a grumble of dissent,

" _Ngh_ , what the – ,"

Fortunately he caught on pretty quickly and realized that his night time attacker was me. Spinning in the covers he reached across blearily and cupped my cheek,

"Hey, y'kay?"

It was a barely coherent half-whisper in the darkness and even for Dean it was deep and rough, but it was also concerned and utterly comforting given what I was going through,

"I'm floating."

"You – you're _what_?"

"Floating," I mumbled, still experiencing the turning, "Feels like my legs are on back to front."

"They're not."

"Are you – are you sure?"

Dean flapped up the covers and his blue eyes flickered quickly towards the foot of the bed.

"M' sure, an' you're not fuckin' floatin' either, can prove it."

As he spoke he lightly tapped my ass and the warmth of his hand burnt in through the material of the shirt he had picked out for me to wear the day before. It was fast becoming gross with different fluids but mostly with the unforgiving dripping fever sweat and clearly feeling the heat coming off me, Dean frowned mildly and reached out to touch my head.

His hot firm fingers tracking across my forehead and flattened themselves against my skin in the dark, resting there for a second or longer before he unfortunately drew them back, letting out a sigh then turning the bedside light on without any warning and making me squint,

" _Dean_ – ,"

"Time for some more medicine – you're burnin' up again."

I nodded,

" _Mmhmm_ , I know, I feel all hot."

Fumbling across the nightstand for the bottle, threw me a cautious look across his shoulder and rose his brows,

"Not arguin' this time?"

"No," I whispered, my throat seizing up on me and making it come out as a weird scratchy sound.

"Feelin' like crap?"

"Uh huh,"

"M' sorry baby – y'know I'd take it away if I could."

" _Mmm_ ," I groaned back, turning painfully towards him and watching him pour the gloopy elixir out. There was no way I was looking forward to revisiting the taste again but at the same time I knew from experience it would help and so as Dean coaxed me slowly _achingly_ upright and passed the brimming capful, I took it in shaking hands.

As expected the taste was truly indescribable and once again I couldn't help but start to retch. Whatever flavor the drugs company had foisted into it to make it more palatable had clearly not worked and in the end it was only the water Dean put in front of me that stopped me from throwing the damn stuff back up. It made me shudder – as in physically _shudder_ – and I choked out a pathetic sounding half-gag, half-sob. It was officially becoming the worst Christmas ever but fortunately Dean turned and wrapped me in a hug, peeling the covers up and off my scorching body and letting the cold air caress my skin instead.

"Easy Princess," he murmured sleepily as my clammy body cooled, "Gonna be okay."

Even so it was a deeply frustrating sensation to be constantly swimming back and forth from hot to cold and just by keep pulling the bedsheets up and down again and shaking from all the burning I felt like I was defining muscle tone.

 _Ugh_.

Ducking my head deeper into Dean's shoulder, I exhaled a wobbly breath and a quick tear rolled out. It tracked down my face and careered off my cheekbone before landing with a tiny little splash on Dean's arm, followed swiftly by one and then _two_ more as I gave into the misery.

Dean jogged me,

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"I've r-ruined Christmas," I spluttered out sadly, meaning every word although Dean merely laughed,

"No you haven't – ,"

"But I'm all s-sick and horrible – ,"

"Princess, you haven't ruined _shit_ , alright? Doesn't matter to me if you're sweatin', or hurlin', or contagious or fuckin' _anythin'_ like that. Because you just bein' here an' spendin' it with me is already makin' it the best Christmas I ever had."

"Really?"

He kissed my forehead,

"Yeah, _really_. 'Sides, it isn't actually Christmas yet – it's Christmas eve."

I frowned a little,

"Oh."

Dean chuckled back at me and I stifled a little whimper as my head pounded bitterly and my cold body shook. In response to the tremor, Dean ran his hands broad down, testing my temperature and then pulling the covers up.

 _Yes._

Reaching back he flipped the bedside light off and the dual warmth and darkness almost made me sob. Returning his hand to my hip reassuringly, he settled further down and blew out a breath, his thumb stroking rhythmically over my thigh bone in a barely-there but ever so loving little graze.

"Go to sleep baby," he murmured, sounding half-gone, "Feel better in the mornin'."

I already _did_.

Not physically of course – god no, I felt horrible – but emotionally I was pretty darn good.

I was stinky, sweaty, snotty and grumbly but I was still snuggled tightly against the core of Dean's chest and he didn't mind _how_ I looked or the added gross- _ness_ , he didn't care I'd ruined Christmas –

He loved me and that was it.

I drifted off haltingly and dozed for an hour before finally being pulled into the depths of deep sleep. It was fitful and uncomfortable but I evidently needed it, as when I resurfaced the sun was fully up. Dean was gone and the bed was cold beside me, which made me panic and _– oh great_ – the sweats were back.

Where was the medicine?

 _Ah._

On Dean's nightstand.

This was going to be _bundles_ of fun.

As my head protested fiercely, I began to roll over in an attempt to cross the mattress with minimal effort on my part. It worked – well, sort of – in the sense that I got there, but in doing so I manged to mummify my lower half and as the hot hand of fever began to prickle at my skin again, everything below my waist started to burn. The sheets clung in against my legs like some _torture-blanket_ and no matter how I squirmed, I couldn't get them loose.

" _Dean_?" I croaked, both pleading and pathetic, with lashings of self-pity, "Dean, h-help me."

I doubted he could hear.

He was probably out for a run around the neighbourhood, or had the TV up or was being _not-ill_ somewhere else. The last thing he needed was his clingy and infectious girlfriend being an absolute drama queen up in their room.

I kicked my legs again and got precisely nowhere which then drew out a desolate sob. What kind of pathetic half-human burrito _was_ I? What if I never felt healthy again?

Fortunately my decidedly miserable worries were cut short by the sound of feet padding on the floor and I looked up in time to see Dean walk into the bedroom, carrying a glass of orange juice and looking borderline amused,

"Did I just hear you say the words _help me_?"

"Uh huh."

"What's wrong?"

"M'all tangled up – s'hot in here, don' like it – wanna get out but I can't – I can't get out."

Dean chuckled mildly, biting his tongue a little and although I didn't know what about it was _funny_ , I still couldn't help but be soothed by the sound. Putting down the drink, he moved down to where my feet were and began to strip the burrito wrappings off. The moment the air hit my feet, they shot up again and I groaned.

It was cold.

 _Far_ too cold.

Being in the blankets had been far too _hot_ though, so where did that leave me? What was I supposed to do? It was as I was navigating this homeostasis minefield, that Dean offered out the cup of medicinal gloop, at some point having retrieved the bottle from his nightstand and measured me out another foul dose.

"Do I even have to say it?"

"No," I whispered, using his strong arm to drag myself up.

My best friend Kelly had a thing about arm muscles and when it came to Dean's I had to agree. There was something about them – smooth and powerful, big as well, but not _too_ big – they made me feel safe and loved and protected and they were also a very good and solid climbing frame. Once I was upright I flopped back against his chest again and his arms swept in around me to anchor me in place. One of them was holding the cap in my direction and he guided it towards me as I held out a shaky hand.

The medicine – unsurprisingly – still tasted horrible but I was ready for it this time and thankfully so was Dean,

"Here."

The second I had gulped it down he offered out the juice glass and I took it from him gratefully and let the acid burn my throat. I couldn't really taste it which wasn't surprising since besides the nasty medicine I couldn't taste much, but I _could_ feel the pulp stripping away my germy vocal cords and I kind of liked how sadistic that felt. Plus – you know – vitamin C and everything.

Vitamin C was always good.

"What time is it?" I finally asked shakily, my voice sounding crackly and unhappy in my throat,

"Just gone lunch," Dean grumbled back at me, "Want somethin' to eat?"

I shook my head,

"No."

"Gotta have somethin', don't want you wastin' away on me."

"I'll have something later."

"Gonna hold you to that."

Letting out a sigh I leant back further and tried to ignore the painful thumping in my skull. In the silence Dean jiggled me up and down a little, using his chest to bump me against him back and forth. It wasn't a soothing thing – he wanted my attention – and I frowned a little in response to him,

"What?"

"Merry Christmas Eve Princess, looks like we made it."

Hanging above me my boyfriend was grinning and once the words had hit me, I couldn't help but smile back too,

"Oh wow," I croaked, "Our first one together – um – sorry that I'm all – _you know_ – icky and stuff."

He kissed my temple,

"Still beautiful to me baby, even if you are stinky."

"I said _icky_."

"I know."

"Oh god," I buried my head in my hands miserably and sniffled a little, "I smell on Christmas Eve."

For me it seemed like a genuine problem and a pretty depressing one at that, but from beside me Dean merely let out a chuckle and pulled my hands down,

"Princess, I was screwin' around, okay?"

"No you weren't. I _am_ all stinky."

"Hey," Dean tried again, "Not the end of the world here, alright? Look, why don't we get you all cleaned up, huh? Into some clean clothes, make you feel all pretty again? Maybe go downstairs and watch some crappy movie. How does that sound? Ready for a change of scenery today?"

I paused for a second, not entirely sure.

On the one hand our bed had become my place of wallowing and where I felt the majority of my germs had been contained. To that end I sort of felt it was where I should just camp out and weather the storm until I was well again. On the _other_ hand however, I was starting to get bored there, not to mention the fact that I didn't want to spend the holiday on my own, feeling blue and crying beneath the bedsheets while Dean sat downstairs doing Christmas Eve stuff.

 _Hmmm_.

I nodded a little haltingly back at him, not sure of my decision.

"Um, _uh huh_."

"Good."

Dean was up and off into the bathroom before I had the chance to change my mind again, flipping on the taps and throwing in some bubble bath in what I assumed was an attempt to drown me out.

 _Damn._

Now that I had agreed, the idea seemed _horrible_. I was tender and prickly and feeling very vulnerable and so the last thing I wanted was to have to strip naked and sit in what was no doubt a fever-friendly tepid bath. Unfortunately however – even _with_ the taps turned off – Dean was brooking no arguments on the thing and swept me from the bed into his arms protesting mildly before walking me into the bathroom and setting me down on the counter top.

The marble of the vanity froze my thighs clean through and I hissed and shivered as they swiftly turned to ice, the rest of me still burning like an overworked furnace but my upper legs feeling like they were being jabbed with a knife. It was a weird and by no means pleasant sensation and I whimpered a little,

"Dean, s'cold – ,"

"I know, I know baby," he grumbled back soothingly, peeling off my bed socks and dropping them to the tiles. Straightening to look at me, he stepped in closer and laid his fingers against the hem of his newly _icky_ shirt, "Won't be for long, alright? I promise. Gonna be real quick, then we can get you dressed – arms up."

I responded half-heartedly as Dean peeled the shirt off and then let him help me back down to the floor, feeling dubious since it was the first time I'd tried walking after face-planting onto the hardwood the day before. Since _that_ episode – even for peeing – Dean had insisted on carrying me back and forth and so I wasn't even sure if I _could_ walk on my own yet, although with Dean there it seemed like a good time to find out.

My legs wobbled dangerously though once my weight was on them and I probably would have buckled if he hadn't been holding firm.

"Dean? _Whoa_."

"It's alright, you're doin' fine, okay? I gotcha."

I didn't doubt him for a second.

He always _always_ did.

The walk from the vanity across to the bath was probably not more than five steps in all, but for me it might as well have been a full-length _marathon_ since by the time we made it, I was breathless and worn. Getting into the tub was another trial however which I managed by clinging like a limpet to Dean's arms, letting him support my weight almost entirely as I eased myself down into the bubbling suds. To be honest I had been bracing for an unpleasant experience but on that front I was happily surprised because the water was cleansing and even mildly warming, not to mention _unstinkifying_. I may _even_ have let out a contented little grumble, which Dean quirked a brow at,

"Feels good, huh?"

"Really does."

"Well hurry up and get washed Princess, not lettin' you stay in there all fuckin' day. Last thing we need is you gettin' pneumonia on top of everythin' else you got beatin' you up."

I _hummed_ back at him in weary obedience and he kissed me on the forehead and went off to get fresh towels. It was adorable really, he was genuinely trying and – what was more – he was _good_ at it as well. I mean, okay, so he would never be the _Lady of the Lamp_ as such, but that was fine because he was _better_ than that.

He was thoughtful and caring and doing it because he loved me.

Also, he was _hella_ hot.

Luckily by the time he returned with fresh linen, I'd feebly managed to scrub myself down and with the scent of tea tree and mint clinging to me, I even felt borderline _human_ again. It lasted up until Dean drained out the water, at which point my skin seemed to turn to sheet ice and on seeing me suddenly starting to tremble, Dean flapped a towel out and swept it close around my back,

"Looks like it's time to get out now Princess."

I wasn't about to argue with _that_ and so nodded out a frozen little grunt of compliance before letting him lift me up out of the tub. Since the bath had only been shallow, drying off thankfully didn't take long and in the end the water sort of evaporated naturally as I sat on the bed and watched Dean find fresh clothes.

"How about this?" he asked from the dresser and I squinted at the top he was questioningly holding out. It was an old _Kiss_ t-shirt that I'd gotten from a thrift store with rows of concert dates from their '79 tour. I doubted it was real – or at least I _hoped_ it wasn't since I had recently taken to wearing it in bed – and so nodded back at Dean with a grateful little shiver and all the smile I could muster,

"That one's great."

"What about pants?"

I shrugged,

"You choose for me, as long as they're comfortable I honestly don't mind."

Fortunately for me he chose my _ultra-soft_ fleece pants which were frankly like getting a loving hug in clothing form and that was just when I was _healthy_ , wearing them when sick would be like heaven and more. Clambering into them took me forever, but once I was dressed Dean promptly swept me up, pillowing me in against his broad chest tightly as he carried me from the bedroom and carefully across the hall. As he went he was humming a tune at me and I dropped down my head to feel it buzz out through his jaw. It sounded chirpy but totally unfamiliar and I ran a lazy finger over his throat,

"Dean?"

" _Mmhmm_?"

"What song is that?"

"Just this weird one about Santa goin' nutso and murderin' all the elves and _eatin'_ the reindeer and shit like that."

I blinked in astonishment,

"That – that sounds awful."

"Nah, it's pretty funny."

"I like Silent Night."

He rolled his eyes.

Once we were safely down in the lounge – that I had decorated so carefully at the beginning of the month – Dean got me settled in style on the sofa, which included some pillow plumping and tucking me in beneath the throw. Only when I was comfy and snug did he join me by clambering across and wriggling in behind my back, stretching out lengthways and letting me flop against him, my head propped up against his firm chest.

Being freshly dressed and spooned by my boyfriend, I could feel the shivers starting to tail off and as the medicine kicked in and chased away the fever – and the nausea and the headache and everything else – I let out a sigh and snuggled back further as Dean dropped a kiss down onto my neck. At the same time he also brought the TV to life and began to channel surf,

"Come on Princess, your choice."

He only made it through a couple more options before I suddenly stopped him,

" _Look_ , oh my god – ,"

He groaned a little but I could tell he was grinning as up popped Tom Hanks in the gloriously cheesy _Big_ which I had essentially declared my love for a month earlier but hadn't gotten around to seeing again yet.

Giggling happily, I pulled the covers higher and scrubbed my tired eyes as they started to dip. I'd spent so much of the past day unconscious that I was determined to stay awake and watch the whole thing although in the end I managed perhaps _maybe_ half an hour before giving up the fight and letting the darkness sweep in.

* * *

 **The next chapter is the last one for this story and takes place on Christmas Day...they made it! Any guesses for what present(s) Dean has bought for her? I'm curious to know where you think he might go with gifts.**


	4. Merry Christmas Baby

**Okay, so a day early with this last chapter because I'm working late tomorrow night so can't post and I got some really bad news earlier and want to retreat into my stories a bit. If you're not getting too sick of Dean and Lauren then please see below for news on the next installment. In the meantime, enjoy this and have a lovely festive period one and all.**

 **Moxley Gal1, Well, you're half right, it is jewellery and Dean also knows the marriage thing is on the cards as you're going to see, but don't you worry, these two are definitely end game. How could they not be at this point, huh? Wishing you a lovely Christmas and thank you for reviewing. As ever, it means a lot.**

 **xXBalorBabeXx, Oooh, well, you never know, it's going to happen one day, right? Since we know these two are made for each other (or written for each other more to the point!) Best wishes and big hugs for Christmas. Hope you gets oodles of candy canes and thank you sooo much for always being one of my** _ **right there**_ **reviewers supporting my work.**

 **Mandy, Ugh, the injury sucks but I guess it was bound to happen at some point. In the meantime though, I can at least keep writing him healthy and happy, which is what I'm going to do! Dean's cuteness factor shifts into overdrive in this chapter, but I had to go out on a sweet note, right? As always my lovely, thank you so much for always being there with your reviews, letting me know I'm still getting things right. Merry Christmas!**

 **Minnie1015, *Slaps own head* mace, that would have been a great present! Sadly not BUT I do get bonus points because the present is going to pop up in later stories (including the one I mentioned last time where everything gets turned upside down for a while). So there you go, once again apparently, I'm already ahead of you!**

 **Skovko, I can't resist a bit of self-pity when I'm sick, including thinking I've ruined things when I probably haven't. Plus, Lauren does have a bit of a tendency to beat herself for things (as you've probably guessed by now) so she takes being sick extra hard! Luckily in this last chapter, Dean makes that much better again!**

 **Labinnacslove, Dean is being a very good nursemaid in this one and showing how much he loves her by doing cutesy, caring stuff. With his injury in real life, I hope he's getting something similar in return. It's the least he deserves bless him!**

 **Their first Christmas then, here we go...**

* * *

 **Merry Christmas Baby**

I slept on and off pretty much the whole evening, moving through a variety of standard Christmas films and I even managed to eat something at one point, which – okay – was dried toast, but was still a pleasing start.

Despite that though it was still kind of _wash-out_.

Christmas Eve that was.

I honestly felt like I'd messed it up.

I'd had so many plans of what Dean and I could do together, from hanging stockings and cooking lunch to swapping stupid Christmas jokes. Cheesy stuff really, the stupid things you did with family. Because Dean was my family.

That's what we were.

Our first Christmas together had been supposed to reinforce that and yet there I was coughing and sleeping it all off. I was even dozing when the clock hands struck midnight and only woke when Dean nudged me and brushed a hand across my face,

"Princess?"

" _Mmmm_?"

"You gonna wake up for me?"

" _Mmmm_."

"That a _yes_? I've got somethin' for you. You don't get to have it if you don't wake up though. How about openin' those pretty eyes a little, huh?"

I responded slowly, feeling groggy and nonplussed,

" _Hmmm_?"

Dean grinned back at me,

"Hey, there's my girl."

He was crouched down in front of the couch on his kneecaps and there was something excited and childlike in his eyes.

"Wha's'rong," I grumbled both groggy and incoherent to which Dean chuckled back and stroked a thumb across my hair,

"Nothin's wrong Lauren. Thought you'd wanna know it's Christmas."

I blinked for a second in bewilderment,

"It is?"

"Uh huh," Dean nodded, sliding onto the couch beside me as I rubbed at my eyes and tried to prop myself up. Mercifully – thanks to several more doses – I was vaguely beginning to feel not _quite_ so bad and I was pleased that when I finally got upright, I didn't feel sick or want to pass out.

Even so I flopped back against the cushions like a ragdoll as my muscles staged a protest and essentially gave up. It was comfortable though and I blinked into the tree lights which were casting out a colorful and cheery little glow.

Christmas.

 _Huh_.

Who would have thought it?

I had successfully made it to the end of the year.

Not only that but I was actually _happy_ and that – as always – was down to one man. The man who had given me love and a home again, the man who had made me feel safe and secure. Dean had given so much in such a short time and it seemed that he wasn't through giving out gifts.

"Here."

I blinked as he roughly passed something across to me, flat and crudely wrapped like he'd done it himself. Whatever it was though was weighty – _too_ weighty – and so as I took it from him, it dragged my arms back down.

"What is it?"

"Pretty sure you're meant to unwrap it 'stead of me tellin' you," Dean pointed out, grinning a little at my groggy confusion and then pulling me close to press a kiss against my head, "Merry fuckin' Christmas Princess."

"Is this one of my presents?"

Dean sighed at me,

" _Yes_."

"Do I – do I get to open it now?"

"That's kinda the point,"

I gazed down at it,

"Oh."

With my hot shaking fingers and fever-addled cranium, it took quite a while for me to tear off the wrap, initially trying to prize up the sticky tape before Dean got bored and slashed a small rip,

"Come on Lauren, don't wanna still be doin' this _next_ fuckin' year."

" _Hey_ ," I pouted, "I'm sick."

But regardless of my frowning I followed his instructions and ran my finger along the tear he had made, shearing the paper into two complete sections and then letting it fall away from my first Christmas gift from Dean.

"A notebook?"

"Uh huh," Dean nodded, shuffling closer to take it from me and hold it aloft, "I – uh – I was kinda thinkin' about your old one – you know – the one you got back at your mom's house?"

 _Oh_.

I knew in an instant what he was referring to.

The notebook of sex tips I had made as a teenager that Dean had found out my ex-boyfriend knew all about. Prior to that, it been something he'd liked to tease me with, something flirtatious and fun between us both. But somehow knowing that I'd done those things with Andy – and having _met_ my asshole ex – had killed it stone dead.

"The one you didn't want us using together because of what happened?"

Dean shrugged,

"That's why I got this."

It was obvious that he was trying to downplay the whole issue – I doubted he was use to giving out gifts, or for that matter, putting thought into them – but it was obvious that to him it meant a great deal and I loved how personally invested he had gotten.

 _God_ I was lucky.

"You want me to write more?"

"Kinda," Dean replied, wrapping an arm around me and tilting me until I toppled in close against his side, "I thought maybe we could make a new one _together_. You know? Try out new stuff, write that shit down. I mean, only if you _want_ to – ,"

I reached up and palmed his cheekbone, rubbing my fingers over his skin. It was as instinctive and loving a gesture I could think of without kissing him madly and spreading my germs,

"I want to."

"Good," he responded, kissing my head again,

"But we'll have to make sure our children don't see it. That sort of thing can scar a kid for life."

I wasn't wholly sure if it was the fever or drugs talking, or if maybe I just wanted to push him a little more. In terms of my body clock, I wasn't exactly _broody_ but once in a while I would test the waters out. Make sure that Dean still saw us together in five, ten, _fifteen_ years' time. Whenever I did, it made me tense wildly and this time was no different as I essentially forgot to breathe.

"We'll get a locked drawer," Dean replied easily and that was it.

Our happy future was still secure.

Waving a hand, I gestured to the Christmas tree, twinkling happily in the corner of the room. Dean had owned nothing in the way of decorations and with mine back in Wisconsin, we'd had to buy them all new. It was _possible_ that I had gone a little overboard on baubles _and_ in refusing to let him help, but the results of my hard work were utterly undeniable.

It was the cutest damn Christmas tree in the whole of the world.

"Your turn," I sighed, "You've got to pick something."

"Nah, got everythin' I need right here."

He pecked me again and I grinned but shook my head at him, ignoring the way it rattled at my brain.

"Nuh uh, that's not fair – I've had something, so now you need to open something too."

"Princess – ,"

" _Go_ ," I prodded him roughly, wiggling out from underneath his arm. He sighed at me and rolled his eyes a little, but did what he was told and got up from the couch, crossing the room and flipping on the fire which instantly gave the room an additional cosy glow.

"Any of these?"

"Uh huh," I nodded, leaning forward a little, "Ooh, the one on the right."

It was a small square box and as he picked it up he shook it, which made the gift inside rattle lightly at the sides. Crossing back over, he sat down beside me and stared across dubiously.

I blinked back,

"What?"

"This some sort of _kinky_ thing Princess?"

"What? _No_."

"You sure about that? See, I know how your dirty little mind works in private and so I think this must be some sort of butt plug or cock ring – ,"

I clicked my fingers,

"Damn, I _knew_ I'd forgotten something. Are the sex shops all closed for the holidays now?"

Dean grinned and shook his head a little, clearly relieved that I felt well enough to tease.

Maybe I was actually getting _genuinely_ better?

If so that was certainly a very good thing.

"Besides," I continued, giggling a little, "If it _was_ a cock ring, it would be bigger than that, right?"

He kissed my head fiercely and slung an arm around me, grinning with machismo and manly pride,

"Right."

In using both hands to get off the paper, he jokingly caught me in a headlock of sorts, drawing me in against his chest muscles and then applying light pressure as I tried to push him off,

"Dean," I giggled, not minding _too_ much as I flattened my cheek against him and drank in his scent.

"Will you stop wrigglin'? You're puttin' me off here."

Then he tore off the gift wrap and suddenly went still.

Feeling it, I instantly stopped moving along with him, unable to see his face and so not knowing his response. It was the first official Christmas gift that I had ever bought for him and the thought he didn't like it almost swallowed me up whole.

 _Crap._

Squirming down I popped out from the headlock and pushed myself up against his knees to see his face. Fortunately it didn't look _too_ disappointed, it was kind of surprised and moved all at once.

"Dean? Is it okay?"

"I don't – what is it?"

I took the box from him and opened it up.

"It's a fidget toy. It's supposed to help de-stress you. Apparently this one's the best of the lot. You can sort of change its shape and flip it around and _create_ things but it fits in your pocket so you can have it on the go. I thought – I thought if you were stressed before a match-up and I wasn't around to kiss it away, then this might help. You know I don't like it when you start to scratch and hit yourself, so I figured you could try it for a bit. Is it okay?"

For a second Dean didn't really say or do anything, then slowly he looked over,

"You bought this for me?"

"Um," I blinked, "Yeah?"

"To stop me gettin' riled?"

"I – I thought it might help, I mean, I don't know – ,"

To be honest I still had no idea what he was thinking and was starting to get a little panicky inside. But just as it reached the point where I decided I had failed him, he suddenly turned round and hauled me up against his chest, pulling me in so tight against his muscles that I honestly almost struggled to breathe.

" _Fuck_ ," he muttered, tousling my hair and then drawing me back and kissing me on the lips,

"Dean," I spluttered, "Don't, you'll get sick too."

"Don't care Princess – I don't fuckin' care."

I wasn't really sure why my simple little present had made him so excited, but I was happy that he was. It made me giggle and then fall down against him, resting against his heartbeat as he wrapped me in his arms,

"Didn't realize you'd be so excited. They do a whole bunch – I'd have bought you some more."

"It isn't that Lauren," he grumbled above me, "It's just that you actually fuckin' _care_."

"Of course I do," I whispered, "I love you."

But Dean carried on almost like he hadn't heard,

"I've just kinda always been _twitchy_ , I guess – clickin' my fingers and all that kinda shit. Used to drive my mom fuckin' _wild_. She'd hit me but it never really did any good. Teachers used to throw erasers and crap at me – figured I was _actin'_ _out_. Seth and Roman were the first guys that got it but you – you're the first person that's ever tried to _help_."

I snuggled in deeper and wrapped my arms around him,

"I'm sorry they were mean to you."

Dean stroked my hair,

"Even if it doesn't work, you _wantin'_ to help me? Means a lot Princess, a whole fuckin' lot."

Somewhere in the background the fire crackled loudly and as the glow of it soothed me, I felt my eyelids start to droop. For the most part, it was the perfect time to drift back off to sleep again, but considering that it was Christmas, I fought the darkness off.

I didn't want to sleep – not just yet anyway – I wanted to make every second of it count and so to that end I pushed myself away from him wearily and slumped against the sofa so I could better see his face,

"You should know that my goal is still to always be there to kiss you, but it's good to have a backup plan in case I suppose."

Dean grinned at my assessment and gently kissed my nose tip, his blue eyes reflecting back the dancing firelight. It was all so stupidly, perfectly cosy –

There was just one thing missing.

"I wish my mom was here."

In response Dean's arms tightened quickly around me, as if he had been bracing for this exact thing. I guess it was inevitable that I would mention her at _some_ point. I had just hoped it wouldn't hurt when I did.

 _Damn._

It still hurt.

It hurt like a _wrecking ball_ and my throat grew tighter as my breathing sped up.

"Hey," Dean murmured, dropping his head against me and running his nose tip down across my jaw. It was like being nuzzled by a big scruffy hound dog and I leaned in towards him and blew out a breath,

"I'm okay. It's just – I miss her."

"I know you do Princess, I know you do."

"This will be the first Christmas I've spent without her and – ,"

I broke off suddenly and choked down a sob and Dean responded by turning in towards me and letting me bury my head against his chest. The tears were coming out thick within seconds and I balled my hands into his hoodie and sobbed.

" _Sssh_ baby, _sssh_ ," Dean soothed on repeat above me, his gruff notes grounding me, "S' okay, s' alright."

If I was honest then I had really been hoping not to do this. I had hoped that I could possibly keep the tears at bay. But in the moment I couldn't help it, I _needed_ to cry brokenly and fortunately enough, my boyfriend understood.

I wasn't sure how long I bawled for in total – it could have been minutes or hours all things told – but throughout it all Dean stayed loving and stoic, kissing my hairline and holding me close.

When I finally got myself under control again, my eyes were itchy and my cheeks were almost raw. I had also left Dean's hoodie sort of snotty and half sodden, but he didn't seem to care when I tried to brush it off,

"Sorry," I mumbled, "I made you all wet."

He caught my hand easily,

"Doesn't matter, it'll dry."

"Didn't mean to bring the mood down either."

"Lauren, it's _okay_. I get it, alright?"

I nodded up against him then tried to clean my cheeks off, using the hem of my once pristine shirt. Now I _definitely_ hoped it was a knock-off, otherwise I had wiped tears and germs on _Kiss_ gold.

Beside me, Dean was shuffling around awkwardly, like he was trying to pull something from the pocket of his pants. Considering that I was busy post-crying, I didn't pay much attention to what that _something_ was, which was why I blinked in utter bewilderment when a tiny little pouch was placed down on my lap.

"What's that?"

Dean licked his lips,

"It's – uh – another present."

"I've already had one."

"So, have one more. I was – um – I was gonna save it 'til the mornin' but – you know – what the hell, thought you might like it now."

The surprise of the gesture chased away my sniffles and I reached down and picked up the small velvet purse. There were drawstrings at the top, cinching the folds in and I unwrapped them slowly,

"It looks like a jewellery bag."

I had sort of been joking but as Dean stopped twitching – which I realized belatedly he'd been doing all along – something in me squealed just a little.

Dean had bought me jewellery?

Why was he nervous though?

As my thoughts tracked off down the inevitable _marriage_ route, Dean seemed to sense the direction of their flow and cleared his throat hurriedly, making me jump a little and waving his hand around,

"It's isn't – _you know_. I mean, not that I don't _want_ to at some point, but it's – _ah fuck_ – just open the damn thing."

Frowning in confusion I unfastened the drawstrings and slid out the contents onto my hand. For a moment I couldn't work out what I was looking at and I turned it over to get a better view.

It was a necklace – _that_ much was obvious from the get go – with a delicately braided and very pretty gold chain. There was a pendant at the end and as I got a closer look at it, I gasped in amazement and gaped up at him,

"Dean – ,"

Staring right back was my mother's antique earring – the one of the pair that hadn't been lost – the pale purple cameo sitting bold against the clasping and seeming _more_ beautiful for being by itself.

I was dumbfounded, I could barely process what was happening.

Dean had made my mother's unloved lone earring into something stunning that I could wear once again. The thought that had gone into it. The time and the planning. How had he even managed to get it over here? Although once again, as if reading my mind easily, Dean swallowed nervously and licked his dry lips.

"Kelly posted it to me a while back. I found a guy downtown who like _specializes_ in this thing. I mean, at first he was gonna make some sorta replica, but I liked the idea of the necklace deal more. Do you – do you like it?"

A tear splashed down my face again but as he moved in to comfort me I quickly got there first, launching myself towards him like a frantic spider monkey and crushing his whole head as I squeezed him in tight. His face ended up half-jammed in my cleavage but I could hear him chuckling so it was clear he didn't mind. When I finally released him it was with eager kisses, that I traced across his skin as he rose his head up.

"Thank you," I whispered, cupping his cheeks gratefully and leaning towards him until our cold noses touched. The necklace was hanging from my fingers like a talisman. No way was I letting it out of my sight, "This is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me. I love it – I love _you_ – so, _so_ much."

Once again it was Dean that made our yearning lips lock and although I squeaked and tried to pull back from him, his hand on my neck kept me firmly in place. When we finally broke apart, Dean was grinning at me, his blue eyes happy,

"Merry Christmas Princess."

I wound my hand around his and then settled back again, watching the fire glow.

"Merry Christmas Dean."

Somewhere overhead my mother was smiling. I knew that. It was something I didn't even need to guess. Her daughter was content, adored and protected. She may not have been _there_ but she was happy nonetheless.

Behind me, Dean's breathing had started to deepen and I snuggled back further into his arms. No wonder he was tired, he'd been running around after me and playing non-kinky nursemaid for almost two days. My fingers grazed across his warm skin sleepily and I smiled when he pulled me a little closer in his sleep. It had been a strange year – both tragic and brutal – but at the same time I had found as much as I had lost.

I had found myself a father and a stepmother.

I had found myself a real home again.

But best of all I had found the one person who was without a single doubt the love of my life.

Turning around I kissed his jawline gently and then nuzzled a space for myself underneath his chin. He grunted mildly but didn't move otherwise, lost to the happy world of slumber and dreams. I joined him minutes later – the flu still dragging me – but managed one last thought before my conscious dropped off and it made me huff a relieved little breath out.

It looked like I hadn't ruined Christmas after all.

* * *

 **Well, there you have it, another Lauren and Dean all wrapped up. You'll be glad to hear though (or at least I hope you will) that the next takes place back in the wrestling world, meaning Seth and Roman are back again, yay! It's going to be called** _ **The Crack in the Shield**_ **and is about when the guys weren't getting along. In real life I hated it and in the story so does Lauren, so how does she fix it? You'll have to read and find out.**

 **Will be posting it sometime in January in between some other Dean things I've got to put up, so please look out for it and then (as always) be sure to let me know what you think. Until then though, happy holidays, and a great big thank you to everyone again.**


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